Breathtaking
by CharmingNotDarling
Summary: "What word would you use?" The words go from on her mind to off her tongue before she can stop them. She can feel his eyes on her face all at once, feel the air go still and hot and thick. And then the bottom drops out from under her as if the elevator doesn't exist.


A little something I'd like to pretend took place... I hope you enjoy...

Thanks to the wonderfully talented apple-grass-and-smiles, this has been edited.

They step into the elevator together. It's been a long day, she aches in places that remind her to be happy she's alive and in others that make her wish endlessly for a scalding hot shower.

Weller shifts beside her, pulls his tie loose, slips the top button open, shrugs out of the jacket as if he's thinking and feeling the same way.

He folds the jacket over his arm, looks at her out of the corner of his eye and she knows he wants to say something. It's become a common look. She knows there's plenty she could think of to say, none of it relevant to today. All of it relevant to them.

"You did great work today," she can't help but smile when he speaks. Praise is not something you scoff at when it's Weller handing it over. She feels the need to share the praise, they did work together.

"I think you mean we did great work today." She turns to him as she says it, smile reaching her eyes, a sight he doesn't see often enough and it makes his heart rate jump, his palms itchy.

"You're right," he almost laughs in agreement. "we did alright on our own. Just don't tell the rest of the team." She turns away again, smile still playing around the edges of her mouth in a way that makes him wish for ways to keep it there longer and more often.

As the doors close, and the floor starts to pull away she is instantly reminded of their earlier encouter outside this very elevator.

"What word would you use?" The words go from on her mind to off her tongue before she can stop them. She can feel his eyes on her face all at once. Feels the air go still and hot and thick.

And then the bottom drops out from under her as if the elevator doesn't exist.

He moves quickly, his jacket hits the floor, hand at her waist, the other in her hair. He swallows her gasp when their lips meet. He keeps it slow and innocent and gentle. His hands are firm and his mouth is soft, so much so she's forgotten how to breath, still she can't find the will to care.

She takes him in. Hands trailing up his arms, across his shoulders, down his back, up again and through his hair. She pulls him closer. He's got her face in his palms. Callused fingers over the gentle rise of her cheek bone, knuckles brushing the line of her jaw, thumb tracing the lift of her collarbone. She takes his face in her hands as she opens up to him. Dips her tongue in his mouth and feels him moan before she hears it. He shifts again, pulls until they're mouth to mouth, chest to chest, hip to hip.

He takes them under.

Hands firmer, mouths quicker, tongues deeper. So far under she forgets where they are, who they are, and why this shouldn't be. She feels his hands cup her hip, fingers trace the pearls of her spine, his palm spans the crescents of her shoulder blades.

She never wants him to stop touching her. Her skin, her mouth, her insides are blazing from the heat of him. His hands are like magic. They skim and brush and tug and she might go mad if he stops. She can feel the restraint in him. Knows he's leashed his body to protect her mind and she wants to tell him to just let go, too take and offer and share everything. But she knows he doesn't work that way.

When she lifts up onto her toes, slips those delicate fingertips under the collar of his dress shirt, links them at the top of his spine, his entire system trembles. She's soft and warm and willing and he can't believe how terrible their timing is. Can't get over the fact that this has to stop now.

Stop now before the elevator does.

She pulls back as if she's knows. As if she's inside his head, like she's been all day. Breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, she takes a cautious step back.

"I'm not finished," She tells him softly, fingertips tracing her lips, eyes wide and telling.

"Neither am I," He tells her as he retrieves his coat from the floor. She turns to face the door as the elevator announces their arrival. He watches her take a steadying breathe and wishes for her level of control. When the doors part and she steps off he reaches for her left hand, finds the ring and lets his fingers play along the edges of the stones. She turns guarded eyes on him.

"Breathtaking," he says as he slowly drops her hand. "That's the word I'd use."


End file.
